


Stains

by JKlog



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sentinel Bingo Card, Sentinel Bingo challenge, Slash, Spirit Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JKlog/pseuds/JKlog
Summary: Blair is an artist that takes inspiration for his works from stains in the walls.Jim investigates the theft of some of Blair's paintings.Sentinel Bingo ChallengeNo prompt. Wild Card.





	Stains

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Bluewolf for her incredible beta work. Without it this story would be less understandable.  
> This story completes my first line in the bingo card. I'm so happy!

The young artist entered the old empty house. He had paid a good amount of money to be let in. He needed inspiration for his works. He closed the door behind him and looked around. Just what he was looking for.

The walls were covered by huge wet spots, and the high ceiling too. He looked at the other rooms and found the same panorama. He was going to have a lot of work in this place.

He pulled out a block of sketch sheets from his backpack and a pencil. He looked at the wall in front of him and summoned his imagination so that the figures would form. The spots began to take shape in his mind, and Blair saw a woman wearing a turban. Beside her was a man, smiling. Only their faces were visible, in profile. It was good to start.

Blair began to draw, smiling. He could always count on the fact that the images appeared. He finished the sketch and turned the page. Then he went to another wall.

He saw the image of another woman, but this one had an expression on her face that was not pleasant at all. It seemed an expression of hatred and disgust. The mouth was contorted in a horrible grimace and he could swear that the eyes sparkled with malice. He couldn’t draw that. The world had enough bad things to add the representation of one. Blair didn’t want to cause the feelings that would come from seeing that image. Although he wasn’t so naive, he knew that art was not just about conveying nice things, the world was too complex for that. But he preferred to awaken good feelings in people.

He went to another wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let the air out slowly and opened his eyes. What he saw left him amazed. It was rare to see animals in the spots. He usually saw people. But there on the wall was the image of a black jaguar or a panther, whatever it was called. It was perched on the branch of a tree, with its head up, as if looking towards him. For some reason, unknown to him, the image gave him a sense of well-being. He hastened to capture the figure in his drawing.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a charity party organized by the Cascade Country Club. The Mayor was attending, and, having received certain letters with threats, he had required special superveillance.

The best detectives in the Major Crimes Unit of the Cascade Police were present. Captain Simon Banks himself supervised the procedure.

As they wanted to go unnoticed, they were all in formal clothes. Detective James Ellison looked great in his tuxedo, and next to him, Detective Susan Mayer looked gorgeous in her dark blue dress. They had positioned themselves at the entrance to the spacious ballroom, watching closely all who entered. Especially when the Mayor entered with his entourage.

Ellison brought his right hand to his back, at the waist below the jacket, where he had his gun. Just in case. Susan opened her purse and, without taking it out, took her gun.

Luckily, nothing happened. The people who were with the Mayor were the ones who were supposed to be. When the crowd of people passed by, Jim Ellison relaxed and put his hand to his side. Susan closed her purse.

Just as they were both going to turn to follow the Mayor, Ellison saw a young man come in accompanied by a woman taller than him. Immediately his vision increased, as if zooming in, and he clearly saw the beautiful big blue eyes of the young man, as if he had him standing in front of him. He felt that he was going to lose himself in the blue depths, when Susan woke him from his trance with a nudge in the ribs.

“Ellison! We have to follow the Mayor."

Luckily, his vision returned to normal.

Since he had been alone on a stakeout of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, his senses had gone mad. He had consulted several doctors, had done exams of all kinds, and they had found nothing wrong with him. He had been advised to consult a psychiatrist. Of course he wasn’t going to see any.

When he had been assigned to watch over the Mayor, he told Banks he couldn’t do it, that his senses were probably going to play tricks on him. But Banks hadn’t wanted to know anything and forced him to be part of the procedure. Now, when he thought everything was going to be fine, he had that strange vision of that young man's eyes. He expected nothing more to happen to his senses that night.

Mayer and he kept a safe distance from the Mayor, keeping an eye on him. Other detectives were watching the entrances and exits of the room, or were distributed inside.

Later he saw his father, William Ellison, talking with the Mayor. He was surprised at how old he looked. They hadn’t had contact for years. Maybe he would go later to speak to him. Maybe not.

Suddenly, the young man with the blue eyes approached the other side of the Mayor. He began to talk animatedly, gesticulating with his hands. Jim could see that he had long hair, tied neatly, but you could tell it was curly. His face was beautiful. Thinking this surprised him, he had never thought that a man's face could be beautiful. The young woman standing next to him was tall, making him look shorter than he really was. But he didn’t seem to have any problem with his height.

Jim returned to look at the young man's face, and saw that he had pouty lips, and his mouth seemed to have been made to be kissed. This thought also surprised him. Was he thinking about kissing a man? No, surely not.

When Captain Banks stood by his side, he took the opportunity to ask him.

"Who is that?"

"Who?" said Banks.

"That man who is standing to the left of the Mayor."

"Oh, that. It's Blair Sandburg. He’s a famous painter in Cascade."

"I didn’t know him."

"It doesn’t surprise me. You have to read more art magazines, Jim. Whatever. They say he’s inspired by stains on the walls of old houses. I don’t really understand how that can be an inspiration, but that's the way it is."

Sandburg left the Mayor and went to the buffet table, with the woman, who seemed to be glued to his side. Jim followed him with his eyes. Simon realized this.

"Jim, don’t forget that you have to watch the Mayor."

"Yes, of course."

Jim moved his gaze from the younger man, reluctantly, and placed it on the Mayor and his wife. But when Simon went to supervise other detectives, he returned his gaze to the painter. He had his back at Jim, serving buffet food. When he turned around, Jim zoomed in on the left hand holding the plate, and could see that there was no ring. Then he wasn’t married. He wondered what relationship he had with the young woman who accompanied him.

He realized that it was the first time he had used one of his heightened senses consciously to find out something. This gave him a feeling of tranquility. Maybe one day he would learn to control them.

 

* * *

 

Ellison arrived early in the morning at Major Crimes’ bullpen, ready to ask for a few days off from his boss, Captain Simon Banks, for sick leave or a vacation, he didn’t care. He really felt very bad, and his appearance was a true reflection of it. He could hardly eat anything, and his clothes bothered him as if they were sandpaper. He had to wear sunglasses constantly and there were times when his ears were assaulted by intense sounds that caused headaches. If he passed near a dumpster, the smells made him want to vomit. He hoped that the story of all these facts would make Banks take pity on him.

He didn’t even take off his jacket, he greeted his co-workers absent-mindedly and went directly to knock on the door of the Captain's office. He was on the phone when Jim opened the door, and beckoned him to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes, Mayor, I understand." Simon held the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his right hand, in the left he had the phone. "We will investigate it as soon as possible."... "Yes, Mayor, don’t worry, goodbye." And he hung up.

"Ugh!" Banks let out a sigh. He looked at Jim with raised eyebrows and said, "Jim, we have a new case to investigate, this time the Mayor in person asked for it. The Chief of Police called earlier for the same. I know you're a bit overloaded, but they want the best in this, so ..."

"Sorry, Simon, but it's not going to be," Jim said, and watched as his Captain's eyes widened. "I came just to ask you for a few days off. I can’t work. I'm not well, Simon." Banks prepared to tell Ellison that he couldn’t be absent, that they needed him there, but then he thought of himself as Jim's friend, not as his boss. He was really worried about him.

"What did the doctors tell you?"

"They don’t know what's wrong with me. The exams came out normal. They said that I had to consult a psychiatrist. But something happens to me, and it's not mental, it's physical. The only thing I know is that I can’t go on like this."

"Jim, I know you don’t like the idea of therapy at all, but you should try. Just to rule out the possibility that it’s mental, at least."

"I don’t know. I'll think about it."

Simon was Captain Banks again. He stared at his best detective. "Sorry, Ellison, but I can’t give you any days off. What I can do is take away the cases you have and distribute them among other detectives. But this case of the Mayor’s you have to investigate."

Jim sighed. "Okay, what's it about, sir?" "Remember that painter we saw at the charity party at the Country Club?" Jim nodded. "Well, he had stolen several paintings that he had already sold for several tens of thousands of dollars. He’s very close to the Mayor, that is why his case came for Major Crimes. It’s not a very serious case, nor very difficult. I think you can handle it, considering your... problems."

"It's okay. I'll investigate." Jim stood up. Simon raised a hand to stop him. "Tomorrow we will have all the necessary information, but I think you should go to the studio of this painter, Blair Sandburg, and check the crime scene. The address is this." And he handed him a piece of paper with something written on it.

"Fine, I'll go right now, sir." Jim closed the office door behind him and headed for the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Jim parked the truck in front of the old warehouse where Blair Sandburg's studio was located, next to the Corvair that was surely the painter's. He couldn’t believe that a famous painter worked in such a dangerous neighborhood.

He sat for a moment in the truck, thinking. The image of the artist's beautiful blue eyes came to mind. He’d seen them so clearly and so close. He remembered in detail the face of the painter, as if he were seeing it at that moment. His eyes, his full lips, his nose. Why had he made such a deep impression on him? He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

He got out of the truck, and headed for the warehouse door. There was an intercom beside it. Jim rang the buzzer. There was a voice.

"Who is it?"

"I'm Detective Ellison, Major Crimes, Cascade PD."

"Okay, push the door."

There was a buzzing sound and Jim pushed the door that opened with a deafening noise. Jim put his hands to his ears.

"What's wrong?" asked Blair Sandburg, who was standing about fifteen feet from the door. Jim lowered his hands and said,

"It's okay, just a little earache, nothing serious."

"Well, if you say so." Blair approached the detective and extended a hand. "My name is Blair Sandburg, I think you already know that I’m a painter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Detective Ellison."

"Me too, Chief," Jim said, shaking the artist's hand. Suddenly, he saw a quick, flickering image of a panther and a wolf, running towards each other, surrounded by a blue light. _Am I going crazy?_ But it lasted very little time. Fortunately, because Sandburg was talking again.

"Do you want to see where the paintings they stole were?"

"Yes, please."

When they went to another part of the building, the click of a mousetrap was heard.

"Do you have mice around here, Chief?"

"Noooo, mice are one thing, but these are ... they are ..." And he put his hands out indicating the large size of the "mice".

"How can you live in such a place?" Because Jim had realized that the artist not only worked there, he had furniture that suggested that it was a permanent home.

"Where else would I get more than 10000 square feet for only 850 a month?"

Ellison didn’t answer that and followed the painter to an area of the warehouse in which were some easels with paintings in process and others empty. There were also places on a wall where there seemed to have been pictures hanging. Jim came over and looked intently at the wall. There were signs that forensics had searched for fingerprints. Surely the thieves had worn gloves.

Sandburg was standing behind him. "Excuse me, Detective, but wouldn’t you see better if you took off your sunglasses?" Jim took them off right away. He felt the need to explain.

"I use them because I have very sensitive eyesight."

Sandburg was thinking. _He has sensitive ears and eyesight too. Is he one of those people with two enhanced senses?_ He had previously been a student of Anthropology and his area of study was Sentinels, people with their five senses enhanced. But he had never found one, only people with one or two hyperactive senses. That is why he had left Anthropology and devoted himself to his other vocation, art. Although, deep in his soul, he had never abandoned the hope of finding a Sentinel.

"Tell me, Mr. Sandburg..."

"Please, call me Blair."

“Okay, Blair. When exactly was the theft?"

"It was the day before yesterday. When I was at the Country Club party."

"How many pictures were taken?"

"Seven. Five of them were already sold. If I don’t recover them, I'll have to return the money."

"Don’t you work with an art gallery?"

"Yes, of course, with the Berkshire gallery."

"Where did they enter?"

"Through a side door. Come and I will show you."

Blair showed him the way to the side door. When they were there, Jim noticed that they had replaced the door with a safer one. The door they had forced was leaning against the wall on one side. He watched it closely, couldn’t find anything of interest. Also there, forensics had searched for fingerprints. They returned to the study.

At that moment, Jim's nose shot up. He felt all the smells of the place with an intensity that overwhelmed him. He covered his nose with his hands, but that didn’t help. He recognized the smells of the paints and the scent that emanated from Blair's body. In addition there were other body aromas, from other people who had been there. He could distinguish, between the aromas, a cologne or aftershave. It was a very particular smell.

"You use perfume, Chief?"

“No. I prefer to be natural. Why?" Blair had noticed that the detective was smelling something. _Also smell? Could it be?_

"Because someone was here, a man, using a very strong cologne. Don’t you smell it?"

"No, I don’t smell anything."

Jim touched his forehead with one hand and closed his eyes. A very strong headache was beginning. He was already getting used to that happening.

"Are you all right?" Sandburg asked, and put his right hand on Jim's left arm. Immediately, the headache disappeared. Jim opened his eyes and stared at Blair, amazed. _What happened?_ Jim asked himself. His sense of smell was better, in fact, all his senses seemed to be behaving normally. He felt much better after Sandburg had touched him.

"Are you okay?" the painter asked again, worried.

"Yes, now I'm fine, thanks." Jim didn’t know what had happened, but he felt grateful.

"I would have sworn that a minute ago you didn’t feel so good," Sandburg said.

"Yes, I had a small headache, but now it's gone, I'm fine."

Sandburg decided to find out more about the senses of the detective.

"Can I ask you something, Ellison?"

“Call me Jim, please, and yes, ask me anything."

Despite his words, Jim felt a little afraid of what the painter might ask.

"Jim, I couldn’t help but notice that your hearing, your sight and your sense of smell are very sensitive. Are taste and touch too?"

The question took the detective by surprise. What interest could this hippie painter have in the problems with his senses? But he decided to answer him, anyway.

"Actually, I've been having problems with all my senses, since a couple of weeks ago.”

Blair Sandburg's big eyes opened even wider, and Jim thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"You are my Holy Grail!" exclaimed Blair, happy. His smile lit the room, and Jim corrected himself _this_ was the most beautiful thing he had seen.

"You have all five senses heightened! You are a Sentinel!"

"What?!"

"A Sentinel. I'll explain, Jim." Blair took the time to take a deep breath several times. "Before being a painter, I was an Anthropology student. I had completed all the studies, I just lacked the thesis to get my PhD. But there was a problem, my thesis was about Sentinels, people with five hyperactive senses, and I couldn’t find one on whom to base my studies. Only people with one or two senses enhanced. I had a lot of theoretical information, but almost nothing in practice. So I left the career unfinished. I devoted myself to art." Blair smiled again. "I knew that one day I would find a Sentinel. Maybe it's not too late. I could go back to Anthropology!"

"One moment, Chief." Jim frowned. "Even if I were one of those Sentinels you talk about, which I don’t know, who told you that I would let you study me, like I was a lab rat?"

Blair's face went from extreme jubilation to disappointment. Jim felt guilty, but he really didn’t want to be a lab rat.

"But Jim, I could help you! Now you have a lot of problems with your senses, I could help you control them."

Jim was thinking. Maybe something good would come out of this. All he knew was that the contact with Sandburg had relieved him of a huge headache.

"Well, you could start by telling me why I have this problem."

"According to Sir Richard Burton, the 19th century explorer, not the actor, it’s a genetic advantage. But generally the senses are put 'on line' when a state of isolation is experienced for a while. Have you been isolated lately?"

"Yes, I was in a stakeout of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. I didn’t see anyone for three days."

"That's it! That period of isolation activated your senses."

Jim could hear the accelerated rhythm of the artist-anthropologist's heart.

"Good. And how do I deactivate them?"

"I don’t know." Blair was thoughtful for a moment. "But why do you want to deactivate them? What you have is a gift, Jim. And being a cop, your senses are a real advantage. You're a walking crime lab!"

"I don’t know, Chief. So far, they have only brought me problems."

"Because you don’t know how to control them!" Sandburg rested a hand on Jim's arm. "I can help you, if you give me a chance. For example, a few minutes ago, you could smell a perfume. I'm sure it must be from one of the thieves. Can you remember it?"

Jim realized that he could remember the smell clearly, although he no longer smelled it. He nodded.

"You see? It was recorded in your sensory memory. Now, if you ever smell it again, you can recognize it."

"And what's the use of that?" Jim frowned. "Anyone can use the same perfume. It isn’t strong evidence."

"I know, but it's a help. It can help you find a possible suspect." Blair didn’t give up. "For example, when you question someone, you can monitor their reactions. Like a lie detector, only nobody will know you're using it."

Jim thought that, in fact, he could clearly hear people's heartbeats if he wanted to. Right now he could hear Blair’s heartbeat. And it didn’t bother him at all, in fact he found it tranquilizing.

But he was letting things go too far. He had come here to investigate a robbery, not to talk about his senses.

"Mr. Sa ... Blair, I'm going to need a list of people who knew which of your paintings were more valuable. Obviously the thieves didn’t take pictures at random."

"Okay." Sandburg was disappointed by the abrupt change of subject.

"Tomorrow I’ll go to interview the people in the gallery. Could you give me some names?"

"The gallery’s director is Brad Norton. My agent is Lillian Evans."

"Thanks," Jim said, and pulled a card out of his wallet. He gave it to the painter, saying, "Call me if you think of something that can help with the investigation."

"What about the other topic, your senses?" Blair asked, hopeful.

"I don’t want to talk about that right now. We'll talk when this case is closed."

"It's okay, Jim. But whatever problem you have, don’t hesitate to call me," and handed him a card with his information.

"Okay, Chief. Thank you."

He put the card away and turned around to leave. Blair opened the door and they said goodbye. The painter watched as the detective climbed into his truck and reversed. He thought about his fate. He had found a sentinel, who didn’t want to talk about it…

 

* * *

 

 

Jim went back to the police station and went to the Forensics Laboratory. There they gave him the results of the research in the painter's studio, and as he had foreseen, there were no more fingerprints than what were supposed to be there. The thieves had probably worn gloves.

He returned to Major Crimes, sat down in front of his desk and placed the information of the Laboratory in the case folder. He read the rest that had been added. The door had been forced with levers. Several policemen in uniform had already questioned the few neighbors, and considering the type of neighborhood it was, it was not difficult to see suspicious people there. But nobody had seen anything that particular night. It also had to be borne in mind that in that area there were mostly abandoned warehouses.

He had told Sandburg that he was going to interview the gallery managers the next day, but decided he could do it after noon. Besides, his strange senses were behaving well. I hope they continue like this, he thought.

After lunch, he told Banks his purpose, looked up the gallery’s address in the file and left. The Berkshire Gallery was in the center of Cascade. It was an old building that had been modernized, but evidently the architect had had to respect heritage conservation laws, as far as one could see.

He entered through the wide door and headed for the reception desk. There was a young girl behind it, who said, "Good afternoon, how can I help you?" Ellison showed his badge.

"I'm Detective Ellison. I'd like to talk to Brad Norton, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but tell him it's because of Blair Sandburg’s case."

"Okay," the girl said and picked up a phone to contact the gallery director’s secretary. She told her who was there and why. "Okay. I’ll tell him." Then she turned with a smile to Jim. "It's on the second floor, the first office on the left."

"Thank you," Jim said and headed for the stairs. When he reached the second floor, he saw that a woman was standing at the door of the office that had been indicated. She appeared to be around forty years old. She was dressed in a pantsuit and jacket. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Gray eyes were visible behind her glasses. She had a frown and an expression of displeasure when she saw the detective. Ellison wondered what the reason for that reaction was.

"Detective Ellison," said the woman, without erasing the expression on her face, "my name is Marie Thompson. I'm Mr. Norton's secretary. Come in, please."

Jim followed her. The secretary knocked on the door of the office and opened it, saying, "Mr. Norton, here's the detective." And she motioned for Ellison to enter, closing the door behind him.

Norton's office had several posters of works of art on the walls, like the rest of the gallery. Brad Norton was a man of about fifty years of age, the same height as Jim, bald and wearing glasses. He approached the detective and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Ellison. How can I help you?" Jim shook his hand and said, "I'd like to ask you some questions." Norton nodded.

"Apart from you, who knew Sandburg's works enough to know which ones were more valuable?"

"Well, surely, Lillian Evans, who is Mr. Sandburg's agent. But there are many employees in the gallery who have access to that information, for example, in Sales and in Accounting."

"The works were insured?"

"Yes, of course."

"Sandburg mentioned that they would have to return the money to the buyers. That's true?"

"Yes. But the insurance will prevent the gallery from having total losses."

"How many employees does the gallery have?"

"Approximately fifty."

"Could you give me the list of employees and in what section they work?"

"Yes, with pleasure. My secretary can give you that information."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Norton. I think that's all for now." Ellison handed him a card with his data. "Call me if you have any information pertaining to the case."

"Yes, of course, detective."

Norton accompanied Jim out of the office to tell his secretary to give the detective the information he had requested. She looked for it on the computer and then printed it. She handed it to Ellison with the same expression on her face with which she had received him. He thought maybe she was one of those people who are perpetually expressing their displeasure, as if they were smelling something ugly.

Ellison thanked and said goodbye. He went down the stairs and when he was reaching the ground floor, his nose shot up again. He was aware of the cologne he had smelled in Sandburg's studio, as well as other scents, but that smell he could recognize. The painter had been right about that. Unfortunately, with the increased sense of smell the headache also appeared.

When he finished going down the stairs, he looked to the right. There was a semi-open door. The aroma seemed to come from there. He approached and finished opening the door. The room was a depository of cleaning supplies and tools. There was also a table with a telephone and a cup of coffee on top (Jim could see that it was still hot) and a chair on the side.

"What are you looking for, Detective Ellison?" It was the reception girl, who had approached where he was.

"Who works here?" Ellison asked, pointing to the depository.

"Frank Cooper, the head janitor."

"Can I talk to him?"

"He had to leave, he said he had a family emergency."

Jim thought that was very suspicious. Not only was it possible that Cooper had been in Sandburg’s studio, if the perfume was his, but he could have known that a cop was there asking questions and having fled.

"Thank you," he said to the reception girl.

"You're welcome, Detective."

Ellison went to his truck. When he arrived and sat behind the steering wheel, he held his head with his hands. The headache was killing him. He also felt that the clothes burned his skin. He didn’t take them off for fear of being arrested for indecency. He had to close his eyes because the light coming through the windshield was blinding.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, he decided to call Sandburg. Maybe he knew what to do. Just opening his eyes enough to see the numbers on the card, he dialed on the cell phone.

"Hello," Sandburg replied.

"Chief! I'm Ellison! I need your help!"

"What is it? Which senses?"

"Touch and sight. I can’t stand the feel of my clothes and I can’t open my eyes! Tell me what to do!"

"Calm down, Jim! First of all, you must calm down. Sit up straight and take a deep breath. Inhale ... count to three ... and exhale. Do that several times. You are doing it?"

"Yes, Sandburg, I'm doing it." Ellison calmed down as he took a deep breath and his senses quieted. He could feel the heartbeat of the young painter and that was reassuring. Also his voice. He risked it and opened his eyes a little. His eyesight was normal.

"Thanks, Chief. I'm fine now."

"I'm so glad, Jim!" The sentinel could imagine the smile on Blair's face, and he smiled back.

"But we have to find a way to keep this from happening again," Sandburg said, "a way to control your senses. There has to be one. I’ll investigate a little. I still have my notes from when I was studying Anthropology."

"Okay, Chief. I can visit tomorrow, if it's okay for you."

"It's okay, Jim. I’ll be here all day. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

Jim returned to the Major Crimes bullpen. He sat in front of his computer and entered his password to the database of criminal records. First of all, he looked for Frank Cooper.

As he imagined, the man had a history, not for theft, but for fraud. He had served his sentence in Starkville.

Jim wondered if they knew that at the Berkshire Gallery. He supposed no, otherwise they wouldn’t have promoted him as head janitor. Now he had also been promoted to Suspect Nr. 1.

He would have to tell Sandburg that his idea that the perfume was going to help him solve the case was right. The problem would be to explain to the Captain how he had come to that suspicion. He would have no choice but to tell him what was happening with his senses and Sandburg's theory about it. As strange as it sounded.

 

* * *

 

"WHAT?!"

"Hyperactive senses, Simon."

"And what is that about 'Sentinel'?"

"It's what Sandburg says I am."

Simon took off his glasses and gripped the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. It was likely that this whole thing would give him a headache. He stayed like that for a moment. Then he lifted his head with a frown.

"And you say you smelled Cooper's cologne in Sandburg’s studio?"

"Yes, sir."

"You realize we can’t get a search warrant based on that."

"Yes, sir."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to interrogate Cooper. Sandburg says that I can monitor people, hear their heartbeat, perceive if they are perspiring too much, etc., to know if they are lying. I'm going to try that."

"I'm sorry to sound repetitive, but you realize that's not enough..."

"I know, Simon!" Jim started pacing in front of Banks's desk, very aware that he was being insubordinate when talking to his boss like that.

"I know. But at least I'll know something, and somehow maybe I can make him confess. Maybe."

Simon put his glasses back on, staring at Ellison. "It's okay, Jim. Do that. But be very clear that it is a very fragile situation."

"Okay, Simon. I'll be careful."

"Good, Jim. You can go."

Ellison left Banks's office and went to his desk. He still had two hours to work. He searched the background for the other Berkshire employees in the database.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Jim left at the usual time for the police station. When he arrived, he told Banks that he hadn’t found any more people with a criminal history among the gallery employees, and that he was heading at that moment to question Frank Cooper.

Simon wished him luck.

When he arrived, he left the van in the parking lot of the gallery and went to reception, where he asked for Frank Cooper. The girl pointed him in the direction of the depository where he had been the day before. Jim thanked her and went there.

The door was closed, but Jim could feel that there was someone inside. He knocked and Cooper opened the door. He was a dark-haired man, around forty years of age, of medium height, with a fairly ordinary face. He was using the cologne that Jim had smelled in Sandburg’s studio.

"What do you want?" he asked, an expression of displeasure on his face.

"I'm Detective Ellison." He showed him his badge. "I would like to ask you some questions regarding the theft of Blair Sandburg’s paintings."

Jim hurried to hear Cooper's heartbeat. He had to make an effort because there was a radio on with music. After a few seconds, he could hear it. The pace was accelerated. He concentrated on the sound, not to stop hearing it while asking other questions. All he could feel was the rhythmic pounding of Cooper's heart. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate even more. Then he opened them, but he could see nothing.

"Look, detective, I don’t know anything about that. I'm just the janitor, I have nothing to do with the paintings."

At that moment, he realized that Ellison was still as a statue, with his eyes fixed on the wall over his shoulder and with his mouth ajar. He hit him with his index finger on his chest, to see if he reacted, but nothing. Cooper smiled, what a good time for the cop to have an attack of ... whatever. But not to attract suspicion, he had to do something for him, even if it was to call an ambulance.

He moved around the stiff policeman and went to tell the receptionist what was going on. She called an ambulance and then called the Cascade police station, saying she wanted to talk to Detective James Ellison's boss. They transferred her call to Banks. He thanked her for calling and left immediately for the Berkshire gallery. Cooper disappeared.

Banks arrived when they were putting Ellison on a stretcher to take him to the ambulance. The nurses informed him that the detective didn’t respond to any stimulus, but that his vitals were normal. Simon followed the ambulance to General Cascade Hospital.

Once in the emergency, when the detective's clothes were removed, he kept the wallet and his gun. Suddenly, when he waited outside the cubicle where they tended Ellison, he had an idea. He looked in the detective's wallet and found the card with Sandburg’s data. He took out his cell phone and called.

"Hello," Sandburg replied.

"Hello, Mr. Sandburg, you don’t know me, I'm Captain Banks, Detective Ellison's boss."

"What happened? Did something happen to Jim?" Sandburg sounded really worried.

"Actually, yes. He’s totally insensitive. He doesn’t respond to any stimulus. It’s as if he’s paralyzed."

"Damn! It's my fault. I should have told him that could happen...”

"What could happen, Sandburg?" Blair was silent.

"Look, Sandburg, Jim already told me about the Sentinel thing. I know everything. Or almost."

Blair let out a sigh of relief. "Captain Banks, I need to see Jim immediately. I’ll explain everything to you there. Where is he?"

"In the emergency room of General Cascade."

"Okay, I'll go as fast as possible."

 

* * *

 

Simon listened attentively to Dr. Jeff Williams saying that they didn’t know what Jim could have, that it could be epilepsy, but since there were no tremors, they couldn’t know. They were going to do an MRI scan to see if there was brain damage.

By the time Blair arrived, they had taken Jim to do the exams.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sandburg, despite the circumstances," Banks said as he shook the painter's hand.

"Yes, the same thing. Captain Banks, I have to explain what happens with Jim."

"Yes, I'm all ears."

"This happens when a Sentinel concentrates too much on just one of his senses. Loses contact with reality. It's called a 'zone-out'."

"A zone-out?" Sandburg nodded.

"And how do we make him come out of that?"

"I don’t have it very clear. As far as I could understand, it says that every Sentinel has a partner who helps him with his senses and especially keeps him from falling into 'zone-outs'. I guess you can bring the Sentinel back by stimulating one of the senses in a strong way. For example, with an intense smell, or with touch, or with a sound."

"Well, Sandburg, I don’t know how, but we have to try, we can’t leave Jim like that."

"I totally agree, Captain."

They waited about half an hour, during which Sandburg elaborated on the Sentinels theme, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke. Simon could see that he really loved the subject.

When they brought Jim back, Dr. Williams told them that they hadn’t found any trauma in Jim's brain, that they were going to keep him under observation to see if there was any change in his condition and that later they would do more tests.

When the doctor left and a nurse came to check on the patient, Blair asked if he could enter the cubicle to see his friend. The nurse looked at him suspiciously. He told her that he really needed to see him and looked at her with his lost puppy big blue eyes. This seemed to work. The nurse let him in, telling him that it was just for a few minutes. Blair thanked her and approached Jim.

He didn’t know what to do, but something told him, instinctively, that he had to have contact with the Sentinel. He took Jim’s left hand and put it over his heart. He put his mouth to Jim's ear, and started talking to him.

"Jim, I know you're there, you have to come back. It must be a very beautiful place that you’re in, but you have to come back. Your captain is very worried, I’m also very worried. Come back, Jim, please. Hear my voice, feel my heart. Return."

When he raised his head, he saw that Jim's eyes were open.

"Chief?"

"Yes, it's me! Thank God you woke up," Blair said, looking at Jim with a huge grin on his face. Jim also smiled. He was really happy to see Blair. But then he got serious and frowned.

"Where the hell am I?"

"You are in General Cascade. In emergency. They brought you in when you were in a 'zone-out'."

"Zone-out?" "Yes, it's something I forgot to tell you and that's why I have to apologize." And he explained what a zone-out was and how he fell into it.

"What were you doing when this happened, Jim?"

"I was questioning a suspect, Frank Cooper. I was doing what you told me, listening to his heart, to see if he was lying."

Blair had a sudden feeling of pride to see that Jim really listened to him and put into practice what he said. He also felt very responsible for what happened to the Sentinel. He couldn’t explain where that feeling came from, but he felt he had to help him. That in some way it was his duty.

"The next time you do it, you should also focus on another sense as well. For example, touch. You must touch something with a texture that appeals to you."

Jim looked at the painter-anthropologist’s hair and thought that he really would like to touch it. But he didn’t dare, he had only known the young man for a short time, he didn’t want to scare him by doing something like that. He felt that he really liked Blair, he was attracted to him, as he had never felt attracted to anyone. Actually, he had never been attracted to a man, this was the first time.

At that moment, the nurse entered, and was surprised to see the patient awake. She hurried to call Dr. Williams. When he arrived, he couldn’t believe that Ellison was awake. He said that they still couldn’t let him go, that he had to stay until the next day, to try to find out why he had lost consciousness.

Jim looked at Blair, asking silently if they should say what had really happened, Blair shrugged. Dr. Williams left.

"I think it's better that only you, me and Banks are the ones who know about your senses. If you are going to use them as tools in your work, it’s better that they are a secret."

"Yes, I think the same," Jim said.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Jim was surprised by the question. But pleasantly.

"No, Chief, I couldn’t ask you something like that. You barely know me."

"However, I feel like I've known you all my life," Blair said, flushing with embarrassment when he realized what he had said. Jim smiled at the sight and said,

"Yeah, me too, Chief, me too."

They looked at each other affectionately, smiling.

"Fine, Jim. I'll come early tomorrow to see how you are doing."

"I'll be waiting, Chief."

Blair squeezed Jim's hand with his hand, turned around and left. Simon was outside, still talking to Dr. Williams. Blair waited for them to finish speaking, and told Banks he was leaving, that he would come early in the morning. Simon told him that he was going to say goodbye to Jim and that he would leave later, considering that Jim was fine. They said goodbye and each one went his way.

 

* * *

 

Jim had to endure more tests and analysis. But, obviously, the only conclusion they came to was that he was completely healthy. So the next morning he was discharged.

When Blair arrived, Jim was ready to leave and Simon was there to take him to the loft. Blair offered to take Jim, so Simon could go straight to the police station. Jim accepted the offer and told Simon that he would take a shower and go to work right away.

Jim sat in the passenger seat of the Corvair. Blair started with the questions as soon as he sat in the driver's seat.

"How did you get to have a suspect so soon? Did your senses have anything to do with it?" he asked as he started the car. Jim explained how he had come to establish Frank Cooper as a suspect.

"I'll go question him again," he said.

"Ah, but this time you won’t go alone, I'll go with you," Blair said.

"You are not a policeman, Sandburg."

"No, but you need someone to help you use your senses without falling into a zone-out."

Jim was thinking. He didn’t like at all becoming so dependent on anyone, with only three days of knowing him. But Sandburg was the only person who knew what was happening to him and how to deal with it. He had no choice but to trust him. Besides, he had to admit that he liked his company.

He took the opportunity to change the subject drastically.

"Is it true that you paint what you see in spots on the walls, Chief?"

"Yes," Blair said, sighing frustratedly, "I see figures in the spots. That's what I paint."

"That's very original, Chief. I don’t think I've heard of that before. When I went to your studio I didn’t pay much attention to your work, I think I would like to go back to see them more closely."

"That would be good."

They went in silence the rest of the way. When they arrived in front of 852 Prospect Avenue, a soft drizzle began to fall. Jim didn’t expect Blair to go up to the loft, but he invited himself. They left the Corvair and headed towards the entrance of the building. They had to climb up the stairs, the elevator was out of service.

When they entered the loft, Jim left the keys in the basket by the door.

"Come on in, Chief."

Blair came in and looked around. The kitchen to his left was pristinely clean. It seemed never to have been used. The dining room table had four chairs arranged neatly around it. He moved a little further and saw the living room, also totally tidy and clean. There was a coffee table with a plant on it, but there was no more decoration than that. A big sofa and two armchairs. A television and a VCR. On the wall to the right, there was some fairly new audio equipment. The windows opened onto a balcony, where there was a deck chair and a barbecue. There were no more plants. In general, a pretty Spartan house. That told him a lot about the Sentinel's personality.

"Nice place you have here, Jim."

"Yes, it's not much, but it's mine." Jim stared at Blair and suddenly realized he wasn’t being polite with his visit.

"Please take a seat. You want a drink? A coffee?"

"No, thanks, I'll just wait for you to take a shower and then I'll take you back to the gallery so you can recover your truck."

"That would be great, Chief." Saying that, Jim entered the bathroom. He took a quick shower and got out with only a towel around his waist. Sandburg was on the big sofa and when he turned his head to look at him, Jim could see that his eyes were widening and his mouth was opening. He also seemed to have stopped breathing.

_What's wrong with this neo-hippie witchdoctor punk?_ Jim thought. "I'm going to get dressed and then I'll be ready to leave," he said. Sandburg could only nod his head.

Jim climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He dressed in his tightest jeans and a black T-shirt, equally tight. When he came down, Sandburg didn’t look at him as he had done before, but you could see that he appreciated what he saw.

They rushed into the Corvair because the drizzle had turned into rain. Blair drove in silence, until they reached the gallery and parked in front.

"What do you think if I accompany you now to question Cooper?" Jim looked at him as if he had two heads. The kid didn’t want to understand that he worked alone. Besides, Sandburg was not a cop. But on the other hand, there was the "zone-out" thing. He really needed help with that.

So he let out a deep sigh and said, "It's okay, Sandburg. But I ask the questions." Blair smiled.

"Okay, Jim. I wouldn't dare interfere in your work as a detective."

They went down from the Corvair and went running in the rain towards the gallery. There, Jim asked the receptionist for Cooper and she told him that the janitor had not shown up for work that day. That perhaps his girlfriend could tell them something about him. Jim was surprised to learn that the gallery's director’s secretary was Cooper's girlfriend. Marie Thompson was going to have to answer some questions.

 

* * *

 

They went up to the second floor. Before entering Brad Norton's office, Jim said, "Sandburg, I'm going to try to do that thing to detect lies. What can I do to avoid falling into a zone-out?"

Blair searched his pockets and found a coin. "Take this. Play it while you're focusing on her heart rate. It should work out."

They entered the office. Marie Thompson was sitting at the computer, typing. She looked up as soon as he saw them enter.

"Detective Ellison. Mr. Sandburg. Good Morning."

The two men greeted her. Ellison couldn’t help but notice the expression of displeasure on the secretary's face for the second time.

"Mr. Norton is busy at this time."

"It's okay. Actually, we wanted to talk to you, ask you a few questions, if you're so kind," Jim said. Immediately, he focused on listening to the woman’s heartbeat, while with the right hand he touched the coin. The beats were a little accelerated, but not too much.

"Ms. Thompson, I understand that you are Frank Cooper's girlfriend."

"Yes, that's right." The heart rate quickened, although the woman's facial expression didn’t reveal anything.

"Do you know why he missed work today?"

"Frank had some family problems, his mother isn’t in good health."

Jim had no doubt that something strange was happening. He decided to attack the jugular directly.

"Cooper stole Sandburg's paintings?"

The rhythm of the woman's heart soared. Her face showed her astonishment at the question, but then that expression changed to one of indignation.

"How dare you ask me that question? What are your reasons for suspecting Frank?"

Jim expected that reaction. "I have reasons to think that your boyfriend was in Sandburg’s studio."

"What reasons?"

Jim couldn’t tell her he had smelled the perfume Cooper used after two days of being there. Also, it wasn’t conclusive evidence. It could have been any other person with the same cologne.

"Let's say there is evidence pointing to that. I can’t talk about that, it's an ongoing investigation," said Ellison.

"I don’t understand what evidence there may be. Frank didn’t steal those paintings. He’s an honest, hard-working man."

"Ms. Thompson, we already know that he served a sentence in Starkville for fraud."

This made the woman pale. Even Sandburg could see it.

"That... that..." Marie Thompson stammered, "that was a youth mistake."

Jim decided to end the interview. "Thanks for your cooperation, Ms. Thompson. We'll be in touch."

Sandburg and he turned around and left the office, leaving a visibly upset secretary behind. When they were halfway to the stairs, Jim took Blair by the arm, stopping him. He signaled him to silence with his index finger over his mouth. He inclined his head in a posture that indicated he was listening to something.

_"Frank, the cop was here a minute ago. He asked if you had stolen the paintings."_ Marie Thompson was whispering, but Jim could hear her.

_"And what did you say?"_ Jim could hear Cooper through the phone.

_"I said no, of course. But he says he has evidence that ties you to the crime scene."_

_"Evidence? That's impossible!"_

_"I know. He didn’t want to tell me what it was."_

_"Damn cop!" Cooper paused. "I think I'll go to the gallery tomorrow, so as not to raise suspicions. You did well to call me, pretty. See you tomorrow. I love you."_

_"I love you too, Frank. Goodbye."_

Jim straightened his head and motioned Blair to keep walking.

Once outside the gallery, Blair couldn’t take it anymore. "What did you hear, Jim?" he asked, as he walked towards the truck.

"Our nice Marie didn’t take long to call her boyfriend. Cooper didn’t say anything incriminating, but now I'm surer he was the one who stole the paintings."

"Let's arrest him, then!" Blair bounced with excitement.

"With what evidence, Chief? I just have a perfume that I wasn’t supposed to smell and a phone conversation I wasn’t supposed to have heard."

Sandburg lowered his head, sorry.

"But there must be something we can do. Can’t we search his house?"

"Not without a search warrant. Besides, I don’t think he's foolish enough to store the paintings in his house."

Jim opened the truck’s door and realized at that moment that they were going to have to separate. That saddened him, he really liked the company of the young painter. But he couldn’t be with him all the time, as if they were joined at the hip. Jim Ellison worked alone, he didn’t need a partner.

"Chief, I have to go to the station. See you later." And he climbed into the driver's seat. Blair didn’t let him close the door.

"Can I go with you? I could help you with the investigation."

Jim stared at him. "You are not a cop, Sandburg."

"I know, but I could help. I have good ideas."

"I'm sure. But you are the victim in this whole story, you can’t participate in the investigation."

Blair looked at the floor again. "It's okay, Jim. But if you need help with your senses, don’t hesitate to call me."

"Yeah, yeah, Chief, see you later." He closed the door and started the truck. In the rearview mirror he could see a very dejected Blair standing on the sidewalk, looking at him as he went away.

 

* * *

 

When he got to the Major Crimes bullpen, Jim sat at his desk and began writing down everything he knew about the case. Frank Cooper was his main suspect, although Jim thought he couldn’t have acted alone. Mainly because he didn’t believe that Cooper had knowledge of art, nor knowledge of which were the most valuable paintings of Sandburg’s. Surely someone should have advised him. Would Marie Thompson be his accomplice? It was very likely that she was.

He finished with his notes and got up to go to Banks's office. He rapped lightly on the closed door.

"Come in," said the Captain of Major Crimes. Jim opened the door and entered the office. He sat on the chair in front of the desk. He updated his boss about the investigation of the theft.

"That's why I need an order to check Cooper and Thompson's bank records," the detective concluded.

"I'll get it. After all, you could have heard that conversation with some spy device. Well done, Jim."

"Thanks, sir."

 

* * *

 

As he had no other case, and had to wait for the judge's order, Jim left early for the loft. He took a beer from the refrigerator and sat on the sofa with a book. But he couldn’t concentrate on reading, his thoughts revolved around a certain long-haired painter-anthropologist.

He wondered what he was doing at that moment. Would he be painting? Or investigating the Sentinel phenomenon? How would he react if he called him and invited him to dinner? There was only one way to know. He took the card out of his wallet and picked up the phone.

To the second ring, Sandburg answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Blair, it’s Jim."

"Hi, Jim. How are you?"

"All right. And if you mean my senses, they're fine too."

"Oh. And then why did you call?"

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to come to dinner here."

Sandburg was silent for a moment. Not only did the invitation seem strange to him, but Jim had called him 'Blair', not 'Chief'.

"Blair?"

"Yes, here I am Jim. And I would love to have dinner with you. What time?"

"Is it okay at 7?"

"Yeah, okay. Do I have to bring something?"

"No, it's not necessary. I have everything here to make a good meal."

"Good. See you later, Jim."

"See you later, Blair."

 

* * *

 

The dinner went very well, amicably. Blair brought a red wine, which went great with the lasagna, even though Jim had told him not to bring anything.

They talked about everything, from Burton to the Jaguars, going through Blair’s paintings, and especially weaving theories about the case.

Jim again referred to Blair as 'Chief'. When the time came for Blair to leave, Jim felt sad again. He wondered why it would be like that.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Jim went to work very early. Major Crimes was very calm. It was the ideal time to concentrate on the investigation. He opened the files that had been sent to him by e-mail from the bank, with the financial data of Marie Thompson and Frank Cooper. Neither of them had received large sums of money recently.

Jim looked at all the figures from all angles, and found nothing. But nothing took from his mind the idea that they were involved, even if they weren’t the perpetrators of the crime. Maybe they had received cash and they hadn’t deposited it. It could be.

 

* * *

 

Lillian Evans lived in an elegant apartment building in a high-class area of the city. Blair parked the Corvair in front of it and headed toward the entrance. The doorman recognized him and let him in, but he wanted to announce himself in case Lillian couldn’t receive him. Blair hadn’t made an appointment, but he had an urge to talk to her about the insurance.

His agent let him into her apartment. Blair had already been there several times, but whenever he went he was admired for the simplicity and good taste of her decoration.

Lillian was a very elegant woman and surely in her youth she had been very beautiful. Now she was around 60 years old, but she still looked very well. Her hair was dyed blonde, shoulder length, and her brown eyes reflected wisdom and experience. Blair had always liked her very much.

"Can I serve you something, Blair? A tea or a coffee?"

"A tea would be fine, thank you."

"With honey and lemon, as always?"

"Yes, thank you, Lil."

Blair sat in the living room while Lillian went to make tea. Suddenly, he looked to his left and saw the half-open door of the place where Lillian had some works of the painters she represented. He got up and went to nose around. He saw very good paintings by several painters that he knew and others that he did not. At the end of the room, there were some paintings covered with cloth. One of them had a corner that wasn’t covered. Blair thought he recognized that part of the painting. He wasn’t sure, so he went over and uncovered it.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, in shock. It was one of the paintings that had been stolen. He uncovered some others, and they were all his. The stolen paintings.

"You were always a damn meddler, Blair."

When the painter turned around, he saw a horrible grimace on Lillian's face and had a feeling of 'deja vu'. It was hatred and disgust that that grimace expressed.

"Why?"

"Because I am already approaching retirement age and I need the money. Also, why settle for a percentage when I can have the total and much more? Also, because I hate you. You and the other painters think they're so superior. I was an artist, when I was young, but nobody recognized my talent. I'm just taking what should have been mine from the beginning."

Lillian disappeared to one side of the door and reappeared with a gun in her hand.

"Now I'm going to have to take you somewhere else and take care of you."

The woman approached him and told him to leave the room. Blair was thinking that no one knew that he had gone to visit Lillian.That was going to delay locating his whereabouts. But his car was parked in front of the building. Maybe someone would see it.

"Give me the key to your car," Lillian said, as if she had read his thoughts, "I'll send someone to get it out of there."

They left the apartment, Blair in front and Lillian behind pointing the gun, which was hidden in her coat. The young artist thought to say something to the doorman, but then he thought better of it, maybe that would be risking the man's life and his as well. So he went quietly towards the street. Lillian was telling him how to get to his car. Once there, the woman opened the driver's door and told Blair to get in there. Then she came in from the other side.

"You're going to drive, and if you don’t go where I tell you, I'll shoot you. Understood?"

Blair nodded.

 

* * *

 

She had him drive to a house in the poorest part of the city. She called on the cell phone and a man left the house. Blair thought he had seen him in the gallery. Would it be Frank Cooper? Lillian handed him the keys to Blair's car and told him to take it to the cabin. Then, they left, supposedly towards that cabin.

They left Cascade and Blair drove up the mountains. After following a side road, they took a little-traveled path that took them to a cabin. They got out of the car and Blair thought for a moment of running. But even if Lillian didn’t shoot him, where would he go? They were in the middle of the forest.

They entered the cabin and Lillian had Blair sit on a chair. He tied his hands back on the backrest and feet to the legs of the chair, with duck tape. It was an iron chair, very strong.

Lillian disappeared behind him, towards the area of the cabin that worked as a kitchen. Blair smelled the aroma of soup being heated. He realized that he was hungry. It was dinner time. His kidnapper appeared with a mug and gave him a drink. Blair took it, grateful.

When it was over, Lillian poured a mug for herself and sat down in front of her prisoner.

"What am I going to do with you?" Blair smiled at her. He was going to try to be nice to his agent, or should he think 'ex-agent'? "For starters, you could let me go. And take me back to Cascade. I won’t file charges against you for kidnapping, if you do that. As for the paintings, I think we can come to an arrangement. It’s not such a serious crime, after all."

At that moment, the noise of a vehicle arriving near the cabin was heard. Lillian got up from the chair and went to the front door. She opened it and the man who had to take Blair's car came in.

Lillian said something to him in a low voice and they both went outside. Blair couldn’t hear what they were talking about, even though the door was open. For the first time, he wished he had Jim Ellison's ear.

Suddenly, there were screams and the sound of blows. A shot.

Lillian came in, the smoking gun in her hand. Her hair was disheveled, as if someone had pulled it.

"What did you do, Lil?"

"It's none of your business. Shut up!"

Lillian took the car keys and left.

 

* * *

 

Jim was watching television, when, suddenly, his sense of sight skyrocketed. He saw the pixels on the screen, and when he looked away, he saw things so closely, it was like being blind. Luckily, he had the living room lights off.

He picked up the phone and, guided by touch, pressed Sandburg’s number, which he had already learned by heart. The tone rang three times and then the answering machine cut in. "Chief, if you're there, please pick up the phone, I'm having problems." He waited a few more seconds, but nothing. Desperate, he had to resist the urge to throw the phone against the wall. He called again, and nothing.

Instinctively, he picked up one of the cushions on which Blair had sat the other night. It still had his smell. He pressed his face against it, inhaling deeply. When he opened his eyes, his eyesight had returned to normal. He didn’t understand how, but Blair's scent had helped him. He had to tell this to Blair. If he wasn’t at home, he would probably have his cell phone on him. So he called him. He didn’t answer. He left a message in the voice mail.

"It’s Jim Ellison. When you hear this message, call me, I have something important to tell you."

He cut off the communication, turned off the television and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know what time it was, but surely it had been several hours since Lillian had left. He hoped she returned soon. He wanted to go to the bathroom.

He wondered what would happen if Lillian didn’t return. Would he die slowly sitting there? Without anyone knowing his whereabouts? Better not think about that. Ellison would find him somehow and rescue him. Better to think like that.

He wondered what his feelings for Jim were. Was he falling in love? Maybe he was, maybe not. He didn’t know. What he knew was that he felt a connection between them that he had never felt before with anyone. Was it because of Jim's Sentinel condition? Was he the Detective's Guide? That would explain the connection. The bond between Sentinel and Guide. But there was so much more than that. There were feelings. He had to think about that. And now, apparently, he was going to have a lot of time to think.

 

* * *

 

Jim woke to the sound of the telephone ringing. He looked at the clock. It was close to 6 am. He took the phone that was on the side table and attended.

"Ellison."

"Jim, they found a corpse on the beach northwest of the city. It's Frank Cooper."

"Ok, Simon. I’ll leave in a few minutes."

Half an hour later, Jim arrived at the scene of the crime. He went with Simon to the sand where the body was. He lifted the canvas covering it and saw the hole in his chest. There was not much blood in the sand, so he hadn’t been killed in that place. In addition, there were traces of car wheels in the sand.

"The forensics found hair in Cooper's hands. Blonde, long. Presumably that of the attacker," Simon said.

"I'll have to question Miss Thompson," Jim said.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Marie Thompson was in the interrogation room, crying desperately. Banks and Ellison watched her from behind the one way mirror.

"I don’t think it was her. She's too disconsolate," Simon said.

"Or maybe everything is an act to mislead," Jim said.

"What do your senses tell you?"

Jim concentrated on Marie's heartbeat, while in the right hand he touched the coin that Blair had given him. The woman's heart was beating fast. He zoomed in on the woman's eyes and saw that there were real tears in them.

"I think she's not acting, sir."

"Well, go question her, see what she knows about this whole thing."

The detective entered the interrogation room. Marie continued crying, wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

"Do you want coffee or a glass of water, Miss Thompson?" Jim asked. Marie looked up. Her eyes were red from crying so much.

"A glass of water, please."

Jim came out and came back right away with the glass of water. He handed it to the woman and sat on the chair on the other side of the table.

"Thank you," the disconsolate woman murmured, and drank some water.

"You're welcome." Jim paused. "I'm sorry about what happened to your boyfriend, Miss Thompson."

Marie gave a small, sad smile.

"Do you have any idea who may have been responsible for his death?"

"No, I have no idea. Am I a suspect? Is that why you brought me here?"

"Until we find the killer, everyone is a suspect. What we do know is that blonde, long hair was found in Cooper's hands."

"Blonde hair?" Marie's face reflected amazement. Then it went on to reflect anger. "Damn woman!" she said, banging the table with a fist. "She killed him!"

"Who?" Jim asked, leaning forward.

"Lillian Evans. She's Sandburg’s agent. She planned the theft of the paintings. She offered Frank money for his help. I told him not to get involved, but he didn’t listen to me. And now he's dead!" Marie buried her face in her handkerchief, and again cried inconsolably. Jim watched her silently, not knowing what to do to comfort her.

Finally, he got up and left the room. He entered the adjoining room, where Banks was, looking through the one way mirror.

"Will we file charges against her?" Jim asked.

"For obstruction of justice? It would be logical. But I don’t know. Now she is collaborating. Also, look at her. She is devastated," Simon said.

"You're right. It's not worth it." Jim was thoughtful. "So the case is solved, at least the theft of the paintings. We have to find Evans to prove that it was she who killed Cooper."

"With Ms. Thompson's statement, we have enough for an order. I'll get it immediately so you can go find Evans," said Simon.

 

* * *

 

Jim first found out if Evans was in the gallery. As they said no, he and Detective Susan Mayer went to look for her at her apartment.

The doorman told them that Mrs. Evans had left the day before and had not returned. Anyway, they had a search warrant to search the apartment, so the doorman let them in.

They checked the entire apartment. They noticed that a lot of clothes were missing in the closet. Surely, Lillian Evans had fled.

In the room, where there were some paintings, there were none of the stolen paintings. Jim had seen pictures of them and could recognize them. While standing in the painting room, Jim felt a familiar scent. It was the smell of Sandburg. He had been there and very recently. Jim had a feeling of apprehension. Something bad had happened to Blair. He took the cell phone and called him, the voice mail came on again. He didn’t leave a message, somehow he knew that Blair didn’t have the cell phone with him.

Susan called Banks to put an APB on Lillian Evans.

When they returned to the station, Jim told Simon about Blair’s scent that he had smelled in Evans's apartment. He told him to go look for him at his workshop, and if he was not there, they would put an APB on him. Jim went to Blair's apartment. He rang the bell insistently and nobody answered. He had to repress the desire to kick the door and open it. But on the other hand, Jim knew that Blair wasn’t there. So they put an APB to find Blair. Jim investigated Evans's properties, to see where she and Sandburg might be, but there was nothing. Marie Thompson didn’t know where she could be either. Jim felt helpless.

 

* * *

 

That night Jim dreamed something very strange. He was in a blue jungle. It was in a clearing looking towards a stream. Suddenly, he felt a growl behind him. He turned around.

There was a huge black jaguar in front of him. Somehow, he knew that the jaguar was not a threat, but was there to help him. At that moment he remembered the vision he had had when he had met Sandburg. A black jaguar and a wolf. He wondered if it had any meaning in the Sentinel affair.

The jaguar turned around and went into the jungle. Jim followed him. After crossing a stretch among the vegetation, they came to another clearing, where there was a kind of altar made of stones. There was Sandburg, naked, lying on the floor. He seemed to be asleep.

Jim ran to him, but while he was doing it, Sandburg was turning into a gray wolf.

Jim woke up in the middle of the night, startled. What meaning did that dream have? Did it have any meaning? Or was it an invention of his unconscious?

 

* * *

 

"It's been three days since Sandburg disappeared and we don’t know anything!" Jim was pacing in Simon's office, waving his arms, desperate.

"Yes, we know something. A Corvair like the one of Sandburg’s was seen at a gas station in Clayton Falls," Banks said.

"Yes, but we checked that town from top to bottom and we didn’t find anything," Jim replied. "And where is Evans?"

"Evans probably left the city. The search is now nationwide. It’s also possible that she left the country, but the paintings must still be here."

Jim rushed to the door of Banks's office.

"Where are you going, Jim?"

"I don’t know, but I have to do something, or I'll go crazy." He climbed the elevator and went down to the garage. There he climbed into his truck and drove off aimlessly. Something told him he had to go north. He continued driving for two hours until he saw a sign that read: 'Clayton Falls, 30 miles'.

There next to the sign he could see the black jaguar. Jim stopped and the jaguar started running towards the city. He started again and followed the animal, but it didn’t stop at Clayton Falls. It went on for another hour until the route was crossed by an unpaved road. There the animal continued to the left. Jim followed him.

Half an hour they continued on that road, until they reached another intersection. This time they turned to the right. It was a very rough path, which entered the forest. About half an hour more and Jim could see a cabin in the distance. There was Blair, he could feel it!

He stopped the truck in front of the cabin. The Corvair was on the side of the road. He went down and ran to the door. It was closed. He opened it with a kick.

Sitting on a chair, tied, was Blair, with his head hanging down. Jim hurried to his side. He lifted his head and pushed back the hair that covered his face. Jim thought he had to thank God that it was spring and there were no extreme temperatures, although at night it was a little cold.

The young painter-anthropologist reacted to the caresses Jim made on his face and opened his eyes. His beard had grown in those three days, but that didn’t stop Jim from seeing his beauty.

"Chief, I'm here, I found you, you'll be home soon."

"Jim?" Blair asked, with a thin voice.

"Yes, it's me, you're safe," and started cutting the tapes that tied Blair to the chair. He noticed the smell of urine, but it was natural that Blair couldn’t hold on all that time. When he finished releasing him, he had to hold him or Blair would have fallen to the floor. He picked him up in his arms and carried him to the truck. He sat him in the passenger seat, fastened the seat belt to hold him and went to the other side. He started the vehicle and headed towards Cascade.

 

* * *

 

Jim spent the night in the hospital with Blair. He remembered when he had been in the hospital and Blair had offered to accompany him at night. He had said no, he didn’t know him well enough to ask him for that. And it was true, they almost didn’t know each other, but Jim felt as if he knew Blair all his life. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a connection to the young man he had never felt, not even to Carolyn, his ex-wife.

He called Simon on the phone, letting him know he had found Sandburg. He had no choice but to tell him about the jaguar. Simon couldn’t believe it. What else could he have said? That he had a hunch? That was even more incredible.

The painter-anthropologist slept all night. Jim also slept, although intermittently; the chair wasn’t very comfortable.

The next morning, Blair woke up when the first light of dawn came through the window. Jim was awake. They said good morning, and couldn’t say anything else because two nurses came in and threw Jim out of the room.

When the nurses left, Jim came back inside. They had shaved and washed the young patient. They had also renewed the intravenous solution they were giving him for dehydration. Jim went to the bed. Blair was pale, but he looked rested. Jim didn’t know why, but he put his face close to Blair's and kissed him. It was an irrepressible impulse. Blair raised his arms and put them around Jim's neck.

Jim felt the taste of Blair explode in his taste buds. It was a taste to which he could become addicted. The kiss was sweet and slow. When they parted, their eyes were full of tears.

"Jim ..."

"Blair ..."

A dazzling smile lit Blair's face. Jim also smiled. "I'm never going to leave you alone again. I will always be by your side. I won’t let anything happen to you," Jim said, stroking Blair's cheek.

"Will you always be by my side?" Blair laughed. "That's impossible, man."

"Well, I'll try," Jim answered, smiling.

Blair became serious. "I really don’t know what's happening, but I feel like I've known you all my life."

"I feel the same," Jim said. At that time, they brought Blair's breakfast. Jim stayed with him for another hour, but then he had to go to work. They said goodbye with a kiss. Jim told him to call him if anything happened. "Yes, mother," Blair answered and Jim tousled him, laughing.

 

* * *

 

Having tried to sell the paintings to the wrong person, Lillian Evans was captured in the city of Seattle. Local police immediately contacted the Cascade PD and Evans was transferred, accused of stealing the paintings, Blair Sandburg's abduction and Frank Cooper's murder.

Jim gave the news to Blair at the hospital, just before he was released.

"I don’t really know if accusing her of my kidnapping makes sense. She treated me very well. She even gave me a cup of soup to drink. Although she tied me to the chair. But deep down she's a good person, I think Cooper's death was more of an accident than anything else."

Blair was unable to see evil in someone else, for him everyone was good, until proven otherwise. Jim smiled at the kindness in Blair's heart.

"Well, Chief, if she’s innocent of the charges, she’ll have the opportunity to prove it in a fair trial."

"Yes, I hope she really has a fair trial."

After signing the hospital paperwork, Jim took Blair to his home. It was noon, so they decided to have lunch there. They sent out for Chinese food.

After lunch, Jim asked Blair to show him his paintings. He liked them a lot. Blair told him to choose the one he liked the most and he’d give it to him. Jim didn’t know what to say. In that, he saw a block of sheets of drawings with sketches. He asked Blair if he could see them. At his nod, he looked at them. Among them was the drawing of the black jaguar on the branch of a tree. Seeing this, he was very surprised. He explained to the young painter how he had found him thanks to a black jaguar. Blair was amazed and told him that surely the black jaguar was his spirit guide. Jim told him what he had seen when they had first met, the two animals, the jaguar and the wolf. Blair guessed that the wolf was his own spirit animal. It was evident that there was a whole spiritual aspect in all that Sentinel phenomenon.

The following Saturday they met in the loft to have dinner together. After a delicious dinner Jim had cooked, they washed the dishes together. Then they sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watched a movie. When it was over, Blair got up and started to say goodbye.

"Jim, it's time for me to go ..."

"No!" Jim said, and took him by the arm. Then he released his arm and took his hand.

"Please, don’t go," he whispered.

"Do you want me to spend the night with you?" Blair asked, also whispering.

"Yes."

Neither of them said anything else. Holding hands, they headed for the stairs that led to Jim's bedroom. Once there, standing by the bed, they kissed passionately. When they parted, Blair said, "Jim, I have to tell you something, I've never ... I've never been with a man."

Jim looked at him, smiling tenderly. "Me neither, Blair."

Blair's eyes widened at the news. "Then what do we do?"

"We'll just do what feels good," Jim said. And proceeded to remove the clothes between them. When both of them were completely naked, they lay side by side on the bed. Hands stroked arms, chests and backs. Jim started by kissing Blair's neck and then went down to his chest where he found the nipples. He kissed them and licked them. It seemed that his lover liked it very much. He continued to his belly, kissing and licking, until he found Blair's erection. He stared at it, not knowing exactly what to do. Finally, he encircled it with his right hand. Gently, he began to caress the penis, while Blair moaned with pleasure. Jim didn’t think that was enough and put his mouth on the erection. Blair screamed at that feeling. Jim felt his arousal grow with that reaction and began to lick Blair's cock, while his hand caressed the base. Blair tried to warn Jim that he was about to come, but he didn’t move away. When the liquid came out, Jim swallowed it, without hesitation. Blair howled throughout his orgasm, lifting his hips from the bed, while Jim continued to suck.

Jim got up and sat on his heels. He looked at Blair with a satisfied smile. Blair was with his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"Wow, man, that was... amazing," he said after a few minutes, opening his eyes. "But, Jim, let me..." and stretched to touch Jim's erection, only to find a limp penis and a lot of cum in his lover's belly.

"I think I enjoyed that, too, Chief," Jim said, a little embarrassed.

"Wow, I can’t believe it, that's great, Jim, it's the hottest, sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Well, but now what I want is to clean up a bit. I’ll be right back." And Jim went to the bathroom to wash. When he came back, he lay down next to Blair and covered both of them with the sheet and blanket.

"Blair, I have to tell you something."

"Okay, you can tell me anything you want."

"I love you."

Blair smiled at those words. He knew that Jim was attracted to him and that he wanted him, but love? _And how do I feel about Jim?_ He asked himself. _Do I love him?_ With this short reflection, he realized that yes, he loved him. As he had never loved anyone.

"I love you too."

At that moment, both saw the wolf and the jaguar running towards each other, until they collided and fused in an intense beam of light.

Without saying anything, Blair and Jim embraced and fell asleep, happy.

 

* * *

 

**One year later.**

 

Blair Sandburg was in the hallway of Hargrove Hall, waiting. He had defended his thesis half an hour earlier. For him, the committee was taking too much time to do the evaluation. Would they consider that the data was too vague? He had to erase Jim's identity completely from his dissertation. He referred to him as 'the subject'. Would the committee think that he had invented everything? He had put all his knowledge and all his scientific rigor into making his dissertation as serious as possible. Would it be enough?

Finally, the door opened and Dr. Eli Stoddard stepped out into the hall. With a smile on his face.

"I have the pleasure of telling you that from now on you are Dr. Blair Sandburg."

Blair felt a one-ton weight was lifted from his shoulders. He shook Stoddard's hand, smiling.

"Thank you, Eli."

"No, Blair, thanks to you, for your excellent dissertation. And I'm sure you have a bright future ahead of you."

Still smiling, Blair left Hargrove Hall. In front of the fountain, Jim was waiting for him, who, seeing him smile, smiled as well, imagining the good news. They embraced.

"Congratulations, Chief."

"Thanks, Jim. You know? For a moment I doubted they would give me the title, but everything went well in the end."

"Of course. Are you ready for a little celebration?"

"A surprise party?"

"Well, not so surprising, given that I just told you. The guys of Major Crimes organized something for you at Joe's."

"Cool!" said Dr. Sandburg.

All Major Crimes were there, and some people from other departments as well. Blair had made many friends in his passage as an observer. In addition, there were many friends of Blair’s from the University. But what really surprised him, was finding his mother there. Jim had been trying to find Naomi for months. Finally, he succeeded and had convinced her to participate in the celebration. Actually, she had not needed much convincing, Naomi was delighted with her son's achievements. Besides, she already knew that Jim and Blair were a couple, and that made her happier.

Blair was even more surprised by Simon's speech, extolling the virtues of his observer, and announcing that he would be offered a position as a paid consultant. Everyone responded to this with an enthusiastic applause.

"Did you know that?" Blair asked Jim.

"No, I didn’t know anything, I'm as surprised as you are."

The party lasted until the wee hours of the morning. When it was over, Jim and Blair took a cheerful, because of the booze, Naomi, to the loft. She was going to stay with them in the bedroom that used to be Blair's. It cost them, but they finally got Naomi to go to sleep.

Jim turned off the lights and checked the locks, then went to the bedroom that Blair and he had shared for a year. Blair had left his profession as a painter and had devoted himself totally to anthropology, his true passion. Although from time to time he drew, above all sketches that represented his animal spirits. And Jim. He had Jim's nudes, which of course he didn’t show to anyone.

But he didn’t need to look at any more stains on the walls.

 

THE END


End file.
